Changes of Heart
by rambling raconteur
Summary: A twelve year old girl arrives alone at the police department with a difficult case and a heart of gold. Carlton, along with the rest of the Santa Barbara Police Department, fall under her spell, only to have an unexpected secret burst to the surface and put her in deep danger. (psych, with a hint of lassiet (lassiter/juliet) because I can't help it, okay? cx)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A little idea in my mind that quickly took root with a substantial plot...enjoy. :)**

**Changes of Heart**

**by writingraconteur**

* * *

"There's a kid in the lobby, Lassie."

Carlton Lassiter looked up to see the least-wanted face approaching through the crowded bullpen. Shawn Spencer grinned widely, saluting with his ever-present buddy Burton Guster at his side.

"Spencer, go away." he growled shortly.

"Awh, come on Lassie-face," he prodded good-naturedly. "I know children are your _specialty_."

"Tell O'Hara, she'll take care of it," he muttered, flipping through sheets of paper. "She loves the damn things like they're useful or something."

"_Carlton!_" Shawn gasped in fake-disbelief. "How _could_ you!"

"What's going on?" Juliet O'Hara stepped in, apparently in a better mood than normal.

"There's a ickle gurl in the lobby, Jules," Shawn whispered secretively.

"We've just heard Lassiter here insult kids _and_ you in one sentence." Gus put in, affronted.

"Oh, really?" she brightened, determined, apparently not hearing the last bit about the head detective. "Okay. I'll go see what she needs then." She set the files down on her desk, marching away. Carlton watched her retreating back in disgust.

"Kids." he muttered, shaking his head.

"You sound sixty-five already, Lassie," Shawn murmured sorrowfully, but was quickly dismissed with a crumpled paper ball to his head.

Meanwhile Juliet had made her way across the floor to where the benches were, and quickly spotted the young girl among the juvenile delinquents, old geezers and bikers in leather jackets.

The girl was sitting, hunched attentively over a ridiculously thick paperback, medium-length, wavy brown hair falling around her face like private curtains. She wore a simple turquoise shirt and brown shorts in the hot Santa Barbara summer weather, a cheap white plastic watch around her right wrist and a hairtie on the other. Her skin was obviously tan from the California sun. O'Hara drew up quietly until she stood before the silent girl and cleared her throat.

The girl looked up quickly, pushing rectangular wire-rimmed glasses up her nose nervously. Her eyes were a wide dark brown, darker than her hair, and the junior detective immediately got a sense of silent intelligence in those orbs.

"Hi," Juliet said perkily. "I'm Juliet O'Hara, junior detective of the SBPD."

"Hello," she said flatly. She was of Asian heritage, though she spoke without an accent. "Can you help me?"

"Of course," the detective smiled."What do you need?"

"I need you to arrest my parents."

* * *

"Chief, what is this about?" Lassiter stepped into Karen Vick's office, bewildered, eyes glancing accusingly at the younger visitor standing by O'Hara in a corner.

"She needs us to arrest her parents." Juliet supplied a bit dazedly. Carlton snorted in disbelief, looking back and forth between the two women and guest in the room. He eventually found his voice, leaning over to address the girl a foot shorter than himself.

"Look, honey," he spoke slowly, a patronizing smile on his face. "Your mom refusing to buy you a candy bar at checkout is hardly worth a criminal arrest."

Juliet smacked him sharply over the head for his rudeness, but the girl only gazed steadily back at the proud head detective.

"Condescending tones are hardly appreciated, aren't they, detective?" she said, a practiced coldness seeping into her own words. "And in case you were mistaken, I am twelve years and three months since the 7th of April. It hardly warrants such ettiquette, don't you think?"

A faint smile played across the girl's lips now, and Lassiter only stared, slightly dumbstruck and unable to speak. There was a long moment of satisfied silence before Vick cleared her throat and the two started.

"That was hardly professional, detective," the chief smiled wryly. "It was unasked for, certainly. Please listen to the child's words before you cast your opinions."

Carlton straightened slowly, looking to his senior officer and nodding quickly before sitting down on a chair. Juliet managed to hide a snort behind a supposed sneeze.

"My foster parents are growing illegal marijuana plants in the backyard," she said shortly. The others raised their eyebrows.

"Are you sure?" Juliet frowned. "How could you-"

"I see them deal it," the child continued. "I hear them talk, they use it while I'm in the same room."

O'Hara stared, revolted, but the head detective rolled his eyes.

"That's enough stories, kid-"

"There's more," she snapped impatiently at the man, much to his affronted chagrin. "This morning they were fighting. With a customer, I had thought, I don't pay attention anymore. Their voices were raised, they were screaming, when the stranger yelled my name. I came to the window, I was hiding in the curtains when I saw the stranger go down." Her voice was flat, expressionless, wavering. "The husband had stabbed with his penknife. They called me out, still under the influence, more than normal, screaming at me to come out of the house and see the man they had killed." She trembled slightly now, and Juliet laid a hand on her shoulder. "I had to, I had no choice. They were good to me, they leave me alone when they're sober, but you don't know what they'll do when they have a handful of crazy things in their veins. I come outside, and they're laughing, spitting off to the side, kicking the body, throw rocks at it, it's ridiculous. They make me pull the knife out of the body, they make me pull it into the bushes. They make me do everything, they never touch it. It's nine-thirty in the morning on a Monday, nobody is around, the neighborhood has never been really attentive or close knit." Her haunted eyes turn pleadingly to Lassiter's, who is glued to the chair, frozen. "They finally let me leave, and I run into the house, wash off everything, take a shower. I come out and see that the car's gone, they've probably left to a friend's house to drink or something. I pack up my stuff in a suitcase, I take money from their wallets. I run."

"I took a bus, found a map. Followed a route, and here I am."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Juliet hugged her tightly. Karen regarded her in a mix of pity and rage at the people who had committed the act, but Carlton only stared, beyond words.

"You're only a kid," the junior detective assured her. "Nobody will suspect you."

"I've tampered with the body!" she whimpered. "My tears, my DNA, my fingerprints are probably all over the crime scene. A judge won't listen to a child's testimony!" Carlton realized the book she had set on the desk was a huge volume; _Solving Crime With Hints of Identities_.

"Is there anything else that we need to know?" the chief said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

"Guys!" Shawn burst into the office along with Gus, making the occupants leap up in shock. "Special Agent Ewing is dead!"

* * *

**Dun dun duuunnn...reviews?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I don't own Psych.**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"What a shame," Juliet whispered a bit breathlessly, gazing at the body. "He was such a good man."

"The son of a bitch is dead," Carlton snorted, a hint of a smile on his face that was quickly wiped off by a sharp glare from the younger detective.

The car door slammed behind them, and suddenly the girl was by their side.

"Brooke, I told you to stay in the car," O'Hara chided. She stared at the forensics team swarming around the body, face expressionless.

"I've already seen the body," Brooke spoke softly, watching the people begin dusting and inspecting the corpse. "They'll find evidence soon. I cut myself on the knife, my blood's probably on the blade with his." She held up a scabbed cut on the ball of her thumb gingerly.

"Stand back," Lassiter suddenly snapped an arm across the two's front as the stretcher traveled past. Juliet stumbled slightly, shooting a cross glare at the senior detective.

"I know how to handle myself around a crime scene," she retorted irritatedly. "What's the matter with you?"

"What?" he shrugged innocently, and the woman growled under her breath. Brooke would have laughed if she wasn't so nervous, but she studied the two quietly.

Chief wandered over to the detectives, noticing the girl between them, her face creasing into a frown.

"What is Brooke doing here?" she questioned sharply, stare turning to Lassiter who held his palms up defensively.

"Why me?" he sputtered.

"Because _you_ are the head detective and I expect you to take charge of most situations. Now, what is our guest doing here?" she hissed in a lower voice. The said guest watched the quiet conversation curiously.

"She insisted on coming," he muttered, lips pursed. "She..."

"She promised to stay in the car, but she disobeyed orders," O'Hara chipped in helpfully. Brooke drew back slightly as Vick's gaze turned to the child now.

"Why didn't you listen to Detectives O'Hara and Lassiter?" she said in a patient tone often used towards her own daughter.

"I'm sorry," she said, brown eyes steady. "I just wanted to see what was going all, that's all. And I was overheating in the car, Detective Lassiter didn't keep on the AC."

Karen turned accusingly back to where Lassiter was standing. Or had been standing, because apparently he had hot-footed it away. They peered around but he was nowhere in sight.

"A trick worthy of Spencer's work," Vick muttered amusedly. As if on cue, Shawn and Gus popped up out of nowhere behind the chief.

"Hello!" he chirped loudly, making them all leap up in the air. His eyes landed on the guest and he raised an eyebrow, extending a friendly hand. "Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, my working partner Alistair Poshpill." he flourished a palm towards Gus, who bowed extravagantly. Brooke smiled weakly, but she stayed by O'Hara's side, accepting the two handshakes.

"I'm Brooke Reese."

"What are you doing at a crime scene?" Gus asked, and they looked inquiringly at the junior detective, who frowned grimly.

"Her foster parents did this," she said under her breath. Shawn cocked an eyebrow. "And they made her plant false evidence that she was the culprit."

"Wowza," Spencer whistled. Gus shook his head.

"Baaad people on this world," he muttered. He reached out, patting the girl's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll find justice for you."

"Thanks."

"And since when were you two hired on the case?" Carlton reappeared mysteriously. Vick threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Now they are," she said shortly. "And where did you disappear to? I was just about to tell you something."

"What?" he blinked cluelessly.

"I want you to pay attention to our guest," she murmured quickly. "She is only a girl and she needs our help. Try to be compassionate?"

"Ugh, first O'Hara, now you, Chief?" he muttered, stumping away. Karen sighed, turning back to the female detective.

"I'm depending on you, O'Hara," she said in a serious tone as they watched Gus play a magic trick on an amused, but obviously troubled Brooke. "That girl seems smart, but she's still only a child."

"I know," she responded confidently, her usual sunshiney tone tinged with grimness. "Don't worry, Chief. She'll be safe under my guidance."

"And tell me what it's like with a girl her age?" she murmured with an afterthought. "I hope Iris turns out as quiet as her."

They exchanged small smiles before they went back to work.

* * *

"Forensics will probably be done by tomorrow morning," Juliet said from the passenger seat as the car drove back to the station. It was noon, and all three's stomachs were feeling very empty. "Choice for lunch today?" she pivoted in her seat to question a timid Brooke.

"I crave tacoes," Carlton said cluelessly. His partner rolled her eyes.

"Not you. I'm asking Brooke."

"Erm, anything, really," she mumbled. "Tacoes sound good if that's what you would like."

"Call me Juliet," the detective smiled, blue eyes friendly. "And he's Carlton."

"Detective Carlton Lassiter to you," he huffed. She elbowed him sharply.

"Just don't talk to him." she comprimised with a grin.

The squad car pulled into the Taco Bell parking lot, and the occupants spilled forwards eagerly. They all ordered, Brooke starting to pull out a wallet but quickly halted by a shake of Juliet's head.

"On me," she said quickly, handing over a credit card. "It's my turn anyways." A gratified beam spread across the girl's face as she got her pink lemonade slushie. They met Carlton at a booth, sitting down on the sticky plastic chairs. The air conditioning was ineffective and drying, and Brooke sipped fervishly at her cold drink, looking around with an attentive eye. Juliet slid a black iced coffee across the table to Carlton, who sat alone on one side of the table meant for four. He nodded silent thanks, and there was a short silence. The resturaunt was half-full, the noise at a dull roar.

"So," once again it was the female detective initating conversation. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"I people watch," she said after a moment of thought. Her eyes traversed the room slowly before landing on her companions again. "You guys'd call it profiling?"

"You do profiling?" Carlton sat up suddenly, regarding her with renewed interest, and much to Juliet's dismay, a glint of a critic's eagerness. "Of who?"

"Not criminals, Carlton," Juliet rolled her eyes. "And don't start bashing-"

"I won't!" he raised his hands, palms up and shrugging. "But I'm curious."

"Well," she said hesitantly. "I just like to try and guess what people are like based on observations."

"Read us then," the head detective raised a quizzical eyebrow. She straightened in her seat, trying to remember what she had seen of them.

"Okay," she started. "First of all, you like to be in control. You are levelheaded, and you think very highly of yourself. You don't trust in anything you haven't seen with your own eyes. Mainly, Shawn and his psychic powers."

The detective being read snorted.

"I'm guessing, however, by the way you catagorize your actions, and by the way you refer to yourself or others, that you are not quite as much of a toughie than you seem." she continued, gaining confidence. "You are compassionate. At least, towards people you know well. You two have been working partners for a few years now, haven't you?" she tipped her head. They nodded. "Yeah. You guys are really synced up in your actions and probably your thoughts too," she regarded them contentedly, obviously in her stride. "I wouldn't be surprised if you two aren't in a romantic relationship."

Lassiter nearly spat his iced coffee, coughing loudly. O'Hara thumped his back helpfully, an unidentifiable emotion on her face. Brooke leaned back in her chair, smirking.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"You read people like Shawn," Juliet pondered, looking upon the girl with newfound respect.

"Yeah, except not shallow things like what somebody ate this morning," Carlton muttered gratingly. "And she admits that she's not psychic."

"Where did you get that...last part?" she asked after an awkward moment. Brooke only shrugged.

"You two are one of the most clear-cut I have ever read," she said. "Friendly banter, similar actions most likely gathered from each other, mutual respect towards each other, frequent casual eye contact, et cetera. Not to mention that you two have very complimentary personalities."

Both detectives looked away, faces flushed. The girl snickered as their number got called and Juliet stood up to take the tray. Carlton looked up when she left the table, meeting the girl's brown eyes with new approbation.

"That just may as well be accurate." he said emotionlessly. That was all he said, but Brooke glowed inwardly, knowing that it was a compliment. At least, from a fake toughie like Carlton Lassiter.

* * *

**Cute? Not cut? Reviews please!**


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